One Man's War
by jamie2109
Summary: When Harry is asked to investigate Draco, he finds himself facing something he never expected.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Not Mine. I just make them sad, then happy again...sometimes. ;)

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**Author's notes: **Written for inspiredlife for her wonderful donation to haiti relief. Thanks to groolover and ali_wilde for the beta. Hope you all like this morally ambiguous Harry.

Enjoy

jamiexxx

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Being a sixty-something year old wizard wasn't really all that bad, Belvedere Smythe thought as he stretched out in bed. He'd had a good night's sleep and his body was pleasantly refreshed. Surprisingly, there was no dull throb in his head making him want to close his eyes and go back to an alcohol-induced coma. He didn't understand what all these other old codgers were talking about when they whined that they were slowing down. He felt fabulous; perhaps he'd purchased some of that young Malfoy's new hangover cure and taken it last night before he went to bed. Funny, he couldn't remember even going to bed. He was so used to drinking himself into a haze that alcohol never made him forget his actions. True, it made him miss more work than he cared to remember, but today was not going to be one of those days, apparently.

When he arrived at the Ministry of Magic with a smile on his face, ready to pass judgement on the latest proposal before the Magical Creatures Commission, his staff looked like all their Christmases had come at once. He rather liked seeing their reactions; he smiled wider. Today was going to be a good day.

On his way from the office to the meeting room, he passed young Harry Potter in the hall, and smiled at him like a long-lost friend. Harry looked worried for a second, but Belvedere ignored it and went about his business.

After an extremely productive day setting out agreements that would ensure sentient magical creatures the same rights as wizards, he headed home, feeling tired but satisfied. He ate a well-cooked meal that his house-elf prepared for him, worked on some papers for the next day, and then retired to his bed for the night. He was surprised that not once during the day had he felt the need for a drink.

He didn't touch another drop for the rest of his days and went on to become the fairest and most loved Magical Creatures minister in wizarding history.

~hphphphp~

The hospital cafeteria was a busy place, and Agatha Boothe-Jones felt rather smug that she was sitting in public eating lunch with Harry Potter. He was way too young for her, of course, but she felt the looks of all the other women in the room and knew they were wondering why someone like Harry Potter was having lunch with a thirty-five year old, obese mediwitch.

'I'm not sure why people ruin perfectly good toasted muesli with yoghurt. Can't stand the stuff myself,' she said, tucking into the large pile of sausages and mash on the plate in front of her. 'Warm creamy milk and a pile of sugar are a much better topping if you're forced to eat that healthy stuff.' She grimaced. There was nothing she disliked more in the world than people telling her what was healthy to eat and what was not. It was nobody's business what she ate. Harry was not like that, of course, he was a dear man. She smiled fully at him; forgetting her mouth was full of food.

Harry, being the gentleman he was, though, merely laughed and patted her arm in a friendly manner. 'I usually forget to eat breakfast altogether,' he said.

'Oh you,' she chided. 'Life is too short to be denying yourself something you love. You should at least remember to eat, Harry, you're all skin and bone,' she said, which was not entirely true; she thought Harry a fine figure of a man and had she been ten years younger would have fancied him herself.

'I eat enough, but I have to say it's so refreshing to see a woman with a healthy appetite,' he said.

All Harry was eating for lunch was a sandwich filled with green things and some cheese, by the look of it. Agatha disapproved; that was not enough for a grown man to be going on with.

'These young girls today, they don't know they've been born,' she agreed.

When they'd finished eating, Harry offered to see her home, as her shift on St. Mungo's children's ward was over for the day. She agreed and grinned widely as she walked out of the cafeteria, head held high. She deftly stepped through the narrow spaces between the chairs or loudly moved offending chairs out of her way if there was not enough room.

The next morning, Agatha rummaged through the fridge, annoyed because there was no yoghurt for her muesli. She settled for eating one of the bananas she'd been keeping for the chocolate banana cream cheese muffins she had planned on baking that afternoon.

Six months later, Agatha was a different person; a healthy weight and with a glow about her person. She'd lost thirty kilograms and there was a spring in her step. Her patients adored her even more than they had before, and St. Mungo's management was more than pleased with her success on the children's ward.

In later years Agatha went on to save the life of Rose Lupin, nee Weasley, while she was giving birth to her son, David, who would grow up to be the most widely- respected Minister for Magic the wizarding world had ever had.

~hphphphp~

Joseph Keyton arrived home from where he worked as Undersecretary to Harry Potter and placed his bag full of galleons in wages on the table before his wife. She was shocked that, for once, she'd have money to feed their eight children and not have to sell off more of her family treasures for a pittance of what they were worth. Joseph normally gambled his wage away, always losing, but unable to beat the addiction.

He never gambled again and continued to be an invaluable employee until he died of a heart attack two years later.

~hphphphp~

Romilda Vane walked out of the grotty brothel she had been working in, vowing never to return. When she was at school, she'd had some aptitude for potions; she remembered that she'd tried to give Harry Potter a love potion at one point. Not that she'd made that one herself. She determined that she would find a job in an apothecary somewhere, making potions, even if she had to study them all over again.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if she met up with Harry again; he was such a lovely man…but she found it hard to remember the last time she had seen him. Although, as she spent so much of her time high on drugs just to get through the countless hands groping her and stinking dicks being shoved into every orifice, he could have been a customer for all she knew. She shook herself. No, the Harry Potter she remembered would never dream of lowering himself to fuck whores.

Romilda never did return to the brothel; instead she found work with the man who was to become the greatest potion master since Severus Snape and was instrumental in the invention of several new potions that changed the lives of many wizards for the better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Not Mine.

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'Harry?'

'Yes, Minister?'

'I need to see you in my office immediately.'

'On my way out the door. Do I need to bring Joe with me?' Joe was his Undersecretary and, truth be told, did most of Harry's administrative work, saving Harry from unfathomable depths of humiliation at not knowing how to work simple office equipment. Administrative skills were not what Harry was hired for, anyway, so Harry gladly made use of Joe's skills.

'No, this is an unofficial meeting.'

'Right.'

Harry straightened his tie before he entered Kingsley's office. Not that it made much difference; no matter how much he tried, Harry just could not look as business-like and official as his position of Assistant to the Minister of Magic required. Instead, he usually managed to look like he'd slept in his clothes. He pretended the tie helped.

'Morning, boss,' Harry said to the large man behind the grand oak desk. Kingsley looked like he hadn't aged a day in the last fifteen years; the only indicators of change were the few telltale strands of grey at his temples and the half-moon glasses.

'Harry, thanks for coming over so quickly.' Kingsley stood and held out his hand.

'No problem. You said immediately.' Harry shook the hand and sat down.

'That I did. And don't call me boss.' It was an old joke between them. Early on in their working relationship, Harry had often disagreed with Kingsley's decisions but deferred when the older man pulled rank on him. In retaliation, Harry called him 'boss'. They laughed about it now and had worked past those differences, but Harry still knew who the boss was, and he trusted him to make the right decisions.

'I'll stop calling you boss the day you call me boss,' Harry replied, grinning at him.

'Harry, the minute we've cleaned up this place I'm out of here and it's all yours,' Kingsley insisted, and Harry knew he was serious. Harry hoped that day was far away; the wizarding world still needed people like Kingsley to run it.

Harry nodded and sat quietly, knowing that Kingsley rarely spent too long on small talk before getting down to business.

'I have your next assignment,' Kingsley said. Harry had been expecting this; unofficial meetings were always about his next assignment.

'This one is a little different in that there is nothing concrete to indicate this man will commit any crime whatsoever, other than his history and his present standing in the community. The Wizengamot are nervous at the notice people are taking of him and are worried that with his dark past, we'll find ourselves with another dark lord on our hands.'

'So I am to enter into his life somehow, find out what I can about his motives and then what? The usual?'

'Depends on what you find,' Kingsley replied. 'We've not really acted on mere supposition before.'

'So, it's more an information gathering mission?'

Kingsley shrugged. 'It might also be a test of your skills,' he said, giving Harry a sly smile. 'I have to keep you on your toes somehow. Your recent cases have all been too easy.'

Harry scowled. 'Kingsley, what I do is never easy. You know that better than anyone else – everyone else actually, because no one else knows what I do!' Kingsley was all about issuing Harry with challenges, almost as if he were constantly testing Harry's loyalty. It was annoying as hell because Harry thought he'd shown how trustworthy he was over the last ten years. Merlin, he rarely saw any of his friends because of his devotion to his job, how much more testing was he supposed to take, anyway?

'Yes, yes, I know how hard it is. I never mastered it quite like you did. I can't finesse the memories and leave them seamless the way you can, nor can I pinpoint the exact triggers…you have an empathy with most of them that I can't hope to measure up to.' He gave Harry a hard stare. 'Happy now that I've acknowledged you're brilliant at your job?'

'Look, I always defer to you on decisions; you always make the right ones and you haven't let me down yet,' Harry replied. 'I just wonder why you keep expecting me to let you down.'

Kingsley looked over the top of his glasses at Harry. His face was carefully blank, though Harry could see he was fighting to keep it that way. 'I don't expect you to let me down, I expect you to do your job. I keep you challenged because that's the only way you learn. I'll have no use for you if your skill levels fall so much that you get careless and someone discovers what you've been doing.'

_Fine, fine_, Harry thought, running his hand through his already unruly hair. As usual, he found he could only push things so far with Kingsley before he adopted that stern, blank look and put a stop to the discussion. They had been through so much together over the years, Harry thought that should have bound them in friendship, but Kingsley steadfastly retained his mentor role in Harry's life. Anything else would have been inappropriate.

'There's nothing wrong with what _we've_ been doing, Kingsley, you convinced me of that yourself. For the greater good…'

'Exactly, and things are improving. We've recovered well since those early days after the war. The wizarding population is growing again and we are becoming stronger and healthier. And it's all due to our dedication to our society and a genuine desire to make it a better one.'

'I know, I know. This case worries me, though. We're moving from mind-healing to something entirely different. I'm not sure…'

'It's not so different, really,' Kingsley said, sighing and removing his glasses. 'This case will just have the extra step of determining if there is a disorder there first.'

'Yes, that's where I have the problem, though,' Harry said. 'The others had pre-existing, life-threatening disorders; whoever this poor bloke is doesn't, I take it. And I wonder whether we have the right to alter his mind on mere supposition.'

'I do have some ethics, Harry, that's why I need you to be thorough on this one. I want you to get to know him and understand the way he thinks _before_ you use your special skills to enter his thoughts. Only then can you confirm or deny suspicions and alter his pathway - or not, as the case may be.'

'Very well,' Harry replied, still not entirely happy, but accepting of the fact that Kingsley was doing everything he could to make sure they knew what they were dealing with before taking any action. 'Who is it that you're so worried about?'

Kingsley slid a large file across his desk. 'Draco Malfoy,' Kingsley said, but Harry hadn't needed to hear the name; he'd seen it printed in big black letters as soon as the file drew close enough for him to read them.

Hearing his name, though, brought back many memories he wished never to revisit. He'd not heard of the man, other than in professional circles, for over ten years now. Of course everyone had heard of Draco Malfoy, not only for his name and connection with Voldemort during the war, but also for the innovative potions he'd invented since, not the least of which was a nerve regrowth potion that healed many patients in St. Mungo's quickly and earned him a lot of respect in the industry.

Apart from seeing the Malfoy name attached to several other potions just as ground-breaking, Harry couldn't remember seeing Draco out in public at all.

Once Harry got over the shock of just who his target was, he could easily see why Draco had been made a target and why the Wizengamot might be suspicious of him. In the immediate aftermath of the war, Draco and Narcissa had been cleared of any wrongdoing and Lucius made to serve out the original sentence handed down before he escaped, plus an additional five years. Much of the Malfoy fortune had disappeared in several attempts to have Lucius' sentence shortened, but to no avail; the man died in custody under suspicious circumstances that were never investigated. At the time, Kingsley was head Auror and mentioned to Harry that they had been ordered not to investigate. Best let sleeping dogs lie, they'd told him and Harry hadn't minded. For all the harm Lucius Malfoy did, perhaps he'd deserved some retaliation.

However, Harry could see why, with the influence Draco seemed to command now and the motive he might have for revenge, the Wizengamot was nervous.

That didn't mean that he agreed with them; from memory Draco had been pretty petrified of torture and hadn't been able to kill anyone. He was hardly Dark Lord material. Still…it was worth making sure.

Harry took the file, nodding. 'I'll take this home and have a good read. Not sure Malfoy has it in him to be a dark lord, especially seeing as his potions heal, they're not poisons or anything.'

'I'm inclined to agree with you, Harry but we must make sure.'

'What if I find something else in there we don't like?' Harry asked. That was always one of his biggest ethical questions, and had always been answered by Kingsley reminding him that he was there to do a job and any extraneous information he came by was irrelevant. He expected the same answer this time, but Kingsley surprised him – which only served to worry Harry more.

'We'll cross that bridge when we come to it,' he said.

~hphphphp~

These days, home was a two-storey town house in a fashionable part of London. A mix of Muggle and wizard, it offered Harry the best of both worlds. There were restaurants close by, as well as an excellent shopping district and markets where Harry purchased most of his food. His house, though, was thoroughly modern wizard. Kreacher followed him from Grimmauld Place and, apart from grumbling about 'Master not allowing Kreacher to be a traditional house-elf', or insisting on paying Kreacher a wage, was all that Harry needed to maintain a lovely home.

Most of the house was unlived in, though Harry kept it beautifully decorated and furnished because some of the wizarding magazines liked to do spreads on the 'wizarding world's most eligible bachelor', Assistant to the Minister for Magic, and try to get him married off by splashing pictures of him in his lavish home across their pages. The only reason he allowed it was to ensure his name remained as public as possible, and his image beyond reproach, in order to help hide the fact that he did fuck all for the Minister other than his unofficial duties.

Harry lived in a few rooms at the rear of the house; a bedroom, cosy sitting room, kitchen and bathroom. They were all he had need of. They were comfortably furnished with well-used, good quality items and he felt relaxed every time he walked in the door. When he threw the Malfoy file down on his coffee table, though, he decided he needed a drink. He wished he could call one of his friends and ask them to come over to talk about this situation, but he wasn't to speak of his work with anyone. Besides, he hadn't even seen them for months.

He sighed. 'Kreacher,' he called. The elf appeared with a sharp crack.

'Yes, Master? Kreacher is here to be serving Master.'

'Just bring me dinner and the firewhiskey, will you?'

'Right away, young Master.'

Harry rolled his eyes at the term. He wasn't 'young' Harry any more but no matter how many times Harry had insisted that Kreacher merely call him Harry, the elf stubbornly refused to stop calling him 'young Master'. He supposed he could have made it an order but it would have distressed the formal old elf and so he didn't.

Harry made himself comfortable in the armchair by the fire and ate his dinner on a small table, opening Draco's file up beside him and reading as he ate.

The file was very detailed, covering what the Ministry knew about Draco from the time he was born until the present day. Most of the early information contained in the file, Harry already knew. He skimmed over the early years; those he could very well remember for himself.

For two years after the war, Draco had been in Paris to study potions under a personal tutor. No matter that he had no NEWTs, Draco had obtained his Mastery in potions and returned to England on the back of the success of an anti-aging cream he'd apparently discovered when he was twelve years old. No wonder Narcissa had always looked so young, Harry thought.

Since then he appeared to have confined himself to building up his potions business, every couple of years or so releasing yet another brand-new potion that changed the lives of so many wizards. Harry had to chuckle to himself – perhaps he and Draco were in the same business after all, it was just that they went about it differently.

The file included a list of every person Draco was known to have seen in the last ten years, and those that visited the Manor. No one particularly stood out to Harry as signalling that there might be a conspiracy or a gathering to try and take over, but among the names were several that had questionable histories, alongside people like Zabini, Parkinson and Nott who had been friends with Draco in school.

There seemed to be no steady partner - no long term one anyway -and no attempts to get into the spotlight, although there were several photographs of Draco attending an opera or going to dinner with friends. Harry supposed that he was famous enough now that the press were interested when he went out.

It all seemed like Draco Malfoy lived a quiet life, making his potions and occasionally socialising, and Harry wondered why - on this evidence - the Wizengamot was worried. Sure, Draco had a past and was associated with a well-known Death Eater, but there had been no evidence of anything similar since.

Kingsley's remarks underneath the last paragraph though, made a shiver run along his spine.

_Malfoy appears to be living an exemplary life, but the Wizengamot's suspicions were heightened upon the release of Malfoy's latest potion, the new and improved Wolfsbane. They feel the introduction of the potion, which enhances the qualities of the original Wolfsbane to the extent that the werewolf will not transform at all on the full moon, endears him to a large number of werewolves. Now, while this potion still requires that the wolf be secured at night, as it retains many of the wolf qualities during the full moon, the pain of transformation is totally absent and, as such, there is potential for Malfoy to obtain much influence either through gratitude or through threats of removal of the potion if the wolf does not join his cause._

_We need to walk a fine line here, Harry. Society needs his creative new potions; they've saved so many lives, but we want him neutralised if he is in any way a threat of becoming too powerful or there is the possibility of him becoming a dark lord. You are the only one with the skills to do this job properly, obviously. You can remove the threat without Malfoy losing his skill. The Wizengamot will take my word for it that he is no threat, but we must be sure. _

Harry closed the file and sat back in his chair. He picked up his drink and stared at the fire, unmoving for a long time. Of course, he could see why there was worry about Malfoy and if it were true, then he had no qualms about removing those dark motivations from Draco. None at all. No one could afford, nor wanted, a return to the dark days of the last two wars. It was only through vigilance and hard work that they kept the threat at bay.

Still, Draco intrigued him. Where had this prodigious potions skill come from? Harry remembered him as good at potions through Hogwarts, but no genius - he hadn't been able to make the draught of Living Death in Slughorn's sixth year potions class.

This might be an interesting assignment after all, Harry thought. He didn't mind most of his assignments, because he enjoyed meeting new people all the time. Generally he hated the ones where he had to really get to know them, because he tended to become too involved with their lives, really become friends with them, and then when he had to alter their thoughts and ideas, he also had to erase any memory of himself being in their lives. It saddened him to leave so many of them with no memory that they had been friends once.

Draco's case was going to be different though, he could feel it, as he already knew Draco and he was fairly positive that it was going to take more than his sunny smile to inveigle himself into Draco's life.

He was just ruminating on the best way to do that when the Floo roared to life. He jumped and cursed himself that he'd forgotten to close it while he ate dinner.

'Harry?' Hermione's smiled at him through the flames.

'How are you?' he asked in genuine pleasure. It had been too long since he'd seen her or Oliver Wood, whom she'd married three years out of school. Harry had smiled when they started dating – Hermione might have not liked Quidditch that much but she certainly did like Quidditch players. He'd been sad when she and Ron broke up, but it was for the best; Hermione nagged Ron into the ground when they were together and Ron would just hunch down and take it. Oliver totally ignored her when she started nagging and she soon learned different methods of getting what she wanted.

'I'm well. I was just wondering if you'd come round for dinner tomorrow night. It's been at least a month since we've seen you.'

'I know,' he replied, feeling guilty. 'But I might be tied up with work, sorry.'

'You work too much.' She frowned. 'Even the Minister's Assistant needs a break sometimes; you're starting to make me worry that you're turning into Percy.'

'Don't even joke about that.' Harry shuddered. 'Can I let you know tomorrow?'

'All right, but make sure you do,' Hermione replied, smiling again.

'You're looking really well,' Harry said.

'I've been using Malfoy's anti-aging cream and it's done wonders for my skin.' Hermione blushed and Harry laughed, as she'd never been one to spend lots of time and energy on her looks, preferring to bury her head in a book.

'What's he up to these days, anyway?" Harry asked casually.

'How would I know? I only know his potions are brilliant and totally groundbreaking. Oh, and sometimes I see Blaise when I attend Quidditch training to watch Oliver. He mentioned something about how Draco's latest dick of a partner lasted all of a week before complaining that he works too hard. So, he's single.' Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'Why? You interested?'

'He's gay?' Harry pretended surprise.

'You're shocked?' She laughed. 'Now I _know _you're working too hard. Get a life, Harry, or it will pass you by and you'll wake up one morning all alone at the age of ninety with only Kreacher for company and you'll wonder just where it all went. And besides, we miss you.'

Harry sighed and gave in, because she was right. 'I'll be there tomorrow for dinner,' he said.

She thanked him and closed down the Floo.

After telling Kreacher that he would not be in for dinner tomorrow night, Harry retired to bed, mulling over different approaches he would try on Draco the next day. Perhaps he should shut Hermione up and bring Draco to dinner with him.

He fell asleep with a small smile on his face, picturing Hermione's expression if he turned up at her house for dinner with Draco.

He dreamed of Draco that night, confused snapshots of the past all strung together out of order and back to front.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: Not Mine.

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Author's notes: Big thanks to groolover and ali_wilde for the beta work *smooshes* Hope you guys enjoy this introduction to Draco.

jamie

xxx

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The premises Harry arrived at the next day hardly surprised him at all. He'd not been in this part of town often, but the up-market feel it had about it seemed to suit what he knew of Malf- no, he'd have to start thinking of him as Draco all the time now. If he wanted to insinuate himself into Draco's life then calling him Malfoy was hardly going to work in his favour.

The front of the building was ultra-modern; sleek and shiny, dominated by huge windows and doors joined by silver handles and frames. It looked slick and professional – sterile. The interior was not much different; though it carried an indefinable smell – rather like being in a hospital ward where the antiseptic smell was overpowering. This smell wasn't as pervasive but it was a singular smell that Harry was sure he'd have no difficulty remembering. It must have come from years and years of research and potions being developed in the building.

No wonder the actual structure looked sterile then.

One side of the interior was taken up with a massive aquarium that filled the entire wall and rose what looked to be ten stories high. In the tank swam every fish Harry thought he'd ever seen and then some he'd only ever had nightmares about. It was impressive and not only let a softened light permeate the building but gave the place an air of calm and peace.

Harry stood for a while just watching all manner of interesting fish swim by. From schools of tiny shrimp to sharks, they all either lazily floated in the water, or quickly scurried around. Minute by minute Harry felt the slight anxiety of meeting Draco again, for the first time in a decade, slip away.

The sudden sight of a suited diver with a spear gun in his hand, aiming for and shooting a large tuna, stole his peace. Every other fish in the vicinity fled, fright chasing their tails.

Harry sighed as a voice said softly in his ear, 'Shame about the fish, but I need the freshly processed oil for my cream.'

Harry turned to face the voice. He'd recognised it, of course; it was still the same cultured, well-modulated drawl Draco had used in school. Older and deeper, perhaps, but the voice was the same. The man, however, was quite a contradiction.

Draco wore what probably should have been a sterile white lab coat, but was actually covered in smudges of various textures and colours – clearly the markings of a dedicated scientist. There were also smears of something on Draco's nose, and his hair looked like it wouldn't have been out of place first thing in the morning, having spent the night with someone's hands running though it. But the thing that really lit up Harry's insides with mirth was the pair of glasses Draco had perched on the end of his pointy nose. Not only did they make Draco's eyes look huge, but they were also splotched and dotted with what was obviously something to do with Draco's work.

'Hello to you too,' Harry said, trying to suppress his grin.

'Right. Potter. Good day to you,' Draco replied rather formally. 'My receptionist advised me that you were examining my tank. What, may I ask, are you doing here?'

Harry studied Draco's face for several seconds but decided that he couldn't take the huge eyes seriously when they looked at him so ingenuously from behind the glasses – it just wasn't one of the Draco expressions that he'd known.

'Do you need those glasses or are you trying to intimidate me?'

Draco looked cross-eyed down at his nose as if not having remembered he was even wearing them, then he blinked and removed them. 'Better?' he asked, looking up at Harry again, this time with an expression Harry remembered clearly. A scowl.

'Much. Why do you wear them?'

'Protection mostly.' Draco shrugged. 'Besides, some of the close work needs magnification. Sometimes I just forget I have them on if I've been wearing them for a long time. I've been working eighteen hours straight.'

'You'll weaken your eyes like that,' Harry replied.

'And you'd know, seeing as your eyes are barely functional, I suppose?' Draco raised an eyebrow and Harry could see how tired he was now.

'Common sense,' Harry disagreed.

'Yes, well I'm sure the Assistant to the Minister for Magic has better things to do than stand around here and advise me on proper eye care, so what is it that you want?'

'Hermione mentioned that she uses your cream the other day and I just felt I should look you up, see how you're doing.'

'Curiosity? Hmm, that sounds like you; never could keep from sticking your nose into other people's business. Mine especially. You're not going to stalk me again, are you?' The sneer Harry remembered was there, too. Harry bit his tongue at the irritation Draco's words raised in him.

'Got something to hide?'

'Of course I have!' Draco retorted. Harry blinked in surprise and Draco rolled his eyes. 'Only my experiments, you moron. If anyone managed to get their hands on my next potion they'd make themselves a fortune. My potions recipes are closely guarded secrets and I've already foiled a number of sabotage attempts and people trying to steal my formulas.' Draco crossed his arms and glared at Harry. 'Why are you really here?'

Harry held up his hands in mock surrender. He was well experienced in dealing with people that were difficult to get to know. Trying to really understand a drug addict or an alcoholic or a thief was more difficult than he'd thought and he'd had to work on adjusting his approaches. In mid-stream at times.

'All right, all right,' Harry said. 'I admit that I saw your picture in the paper last week and I felt some sort of curiosity. I put it off for obvious reasons - we've never been friends - but when Hermione mentioned your cream and that you were single, I just had to give in to it and come and see you.'

Draco stood there, eyes widening initially and then forming into an expression of total disbelief. 'You expect me to believe that tripe?' He laughed. 'That's even more stupid than your first attempt. I think you can leave now, Potter. Good day.'

Draco turned and began to walk away but Harry caught him by the arm, stopping him. 'Wait, Draco. I'm telling the truth.' Harry'd lost count of the number of times he'd lied and wondered if one day they would all come back and bite him on the arse.

Draco glared at him. 'Is the Ministry after my latest invention? Do they want to keep all the accolades to themselves? Did they send you along to try and steal it from me?'

Harry actually laughed. 'You think if they were after your invention they'd send someone you dislike? I'm not after your potion, Draco. Honestly.'

Doubt flickered across Draco's features. When Harry looked at him closely, he could see fine worry lines around the corners of Draco's eyes that he couldn't see from further back. Perhaps he wasn't using his own cream then. Harry also saw the small smattering of the palest of freckles across the bridge of Draco's nose.

After several moments, Draco blinked and wrenched his arm free of Harry's hold. 'It doesn't matter anyway, I'm not interested, so I'll ask you to leave now or I'll have security escort you out.'

'How about having a drink with me sometime?' Harry asked, unable to just leave.

'I don't think that would be appropriate,' Draco said and walked away. He called back over his shoulder. 'Tell the Mudblood that she needn't have bothered spending a fortune on my cream. The only thing that could possibly improve that face would be a blasting charm.'

For the first time in many years, Draco wished the day were over already. Potter's visit had unnerved him to the point where he was snapping at staff and they were all giving him filthy looks. He told himself he had no reason to be so unsettled by Potter arriving in his building because Potter was not an Auror and was not attached to any MLE department that he knew of. Even if he were, Draco was certain that he could not possibly know…

'No, you imbecile,' Draco shrieked at Turner who had his wand out and was about to slice into the belly of the large tuna he'd recently speared, which was now lying on a steel table, ready for dissection. Draco snapped his fingers, casting a non-verbal, wandless IAccio,/I and the wand flew out of his incompetent worker's hand and into Draco's. 'Surely I taught you better than that?'

The shocked Turner spun around and glared at Draco for a fraction of a second, then remembered where he was and who was berating him, and had the sense to look shamefaced. 'Sorry, Mr. Malfoy, I see a beautiful creature like that and I feel like I'm back out fishing with my dad again.'

Vane, who was at another table chopping aloe, snickered, and Draco pinched the bridge of his nose so hard it hurt. 'Merlin, give me strength,' he whispered. 'Kindly see that you do not touch this fish with magic, Turner,' he said, forcing himself to calm down. 'But if I need to remind you once more, you'll be out on your arse. These animals are far too valuable for me to be putting up with your incompetence. And you, Vane, pay attention to your own work. I don't pay you to stand around snickering at other people's misfortunes. If that batch of potion is ruined you'll be wishing you'd stayed with your previous employer.'

'Who crawled up your arse today?' she countered. Draco winced at her tone and wondered, for the hundredth time, why he put up with her coarse language and complete lack of respect. She smirked at him. 'Actually, don't bother answering, I bet I can guess.'

'Vane…' he warned.

'Ever since that little visit with Harry Potter earlier, you've been like a dragon with a sore head.'

'How did you know Potter was here?' he snapped.

'Hyacinth was only too pleased to come down here and brag that she'd met the great Harry Potter,' Vane replied, waving her knife around in the air.

'She's another one that should mind her own business. I'm sure that gossiping isn't part of her duties either.'

'Oh, don't worry, Draco, I soon put her in her place. Told her I went to school with him and I'd had better.'

A slight smile cracked Draco's face despite himself. 'You're lucky she didn't have a heart attack. You really should go easy on the poor dear.' Hyacinth was seventy if she was a day, with grey hair she wore in a bun so tight Draco was positive it gave her headaches, but the customers seemed to like her and so she stayed, despite her penchant for gushing over celebrities.

'She did look a bit green there for a moment,' Vane agreed, smiling vaguely.

'I wish you wouldn't remind her of your previous occupation quite so much,' Draco said.

Vane snorted. 'Why not? You remind me of it all the time.'

'Only when you're being obnoxious and not showing me the proper respect.'

'Every day?'

'If you'd do your job, then I wouldn't have to resort to such crass reminders.' Draco was laughing inside now. Romilda Vane had surprised him since she'd walked through his doors about five years ago. She'd looked like a Knockturn whore, make-up streaked, face gaunt and what he could see of her body – which was quite a lot more than he'd wanted to – almost skeletal. When she'd asked for a job, he'd almost laughed and turned her away, but there'd been a look in her eye that he'd found hard to ignore. Then she reminded him that all she was after was a chance to prove herself, just like Draco had wanted and needed in order to become successful. She also intimated she had some valuable knowledge that he'd really like to know.

Against his better judgement, he'd given her a chance and she'd proved to be well worth it. These days, she was what passed for a friend. Basically his only friend, which explained his leniency toward her. There was something about her bluntness that reminded him of Pansy, and he'd missed her since she fled into exile after the war.

She also had the ability to drag Draco - kicking and screaming sometimes - out of a bad mood.

Draco picked up a knife and prepared to dissect the tuna himself. He told Turner to go and decant the ready cauldrons of the nerve regrowth potion in the other lab and, when he'd gone, Vane moved to stand by his side.

'So, what happened?' she asked, a softer tone in her voice now.

'Nothing happened,' he replied, pushing his glasses back up his nose with one finger. 'Potter arrived, we chatted like old friends and then he left.'

'Rubbish. You two were never friends.'

Draco remained silent; he really did not want to discuss Harry Potter with Vane who, if she had one disturbing quality, almost hero-worshipped Potter. It irritated Draco so much that he had banned her from speaking about Potter in his presence.

'I always thought the tension between you two was overtly sexual in nature,' Vane continued. 'All that excess testosterone bouncing around in your bodies and –'

'I do have a knife in my hand, you know,' Draco said, a warning growl in his voice.

'Fine.' Vane moved away. 'But he might just want another chance too, you know.'

'What? How…?'

'Hyacinth overheard everything.' Vane grinned at him when he shook his head and sighed.

'Bloody nosey staff,' he grumbled before glaring at her and turning back to his fish.

'I'm serious, Draco. You gave me one, why not him?'

'Because I'm positive that he has an ulterior motive and I'm so close…'

'But if he didn't then you'd be interested?' There was a hopeful lilt to her question.

Draco thought for a moment and then shook his head. 'I have too much to lose.'

'What if he has what you need?'

Draco gave a longer pause. 'Now you're just sounding desperate. Not an attractive trait.'

'Not desperate, just trying to help you out like you helped me.'

'How does that work?'

'He's a good man, Draco, and you could do a lot worse – you have done a lot worse – than to date him.'

Draco sighed. 'Why are you forever trying to set me up? The last one was a complete and utter shit.'

Vane blushed, but shrugged. 'You should be happy and you're not.'

'And you're alone, too, but you don't see me trying to set you up.'

She scowled at him. 'Don't even think about it. I've had too many people pawing at my body to ever be interested in dating again and you know it.'

Draco turned his attention back to the tuna, his silence an apology of sorts – as much of an apology as he ever gave, that was. He had to slice the fish open at just the right place in order to remove the innards cleanly. One nick of the intestines would contaminate the flesh and render it useless.

'Will you think about it at least?' Vane asked as he was sliding his knife into the flesh.

'I should fire you.'

'Is that a yes?'

'It's a maybe, now get back to work.'

'Yes, sir,' she said cheekily and Draco could see her grinning from the corner of his eye.

She was right in one sense though; Potter could have exactly what he needed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Not Mine**

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**Author's Notes: **Thanks to my betas groolover and ali_wilde. Enjoy this chapter. I realise they feel a bit slow right now but things will pick up. Honest...

jamie

xxxx

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Chapter 3.

Persistence, Harry reminded himself. Persistence was the one thing that had enabled him to be so successful at what he did. He was sure that Hermione, or even Ginny, would call it a stubborn streak and tell him it wasn't all that attractive, but giving up had always been anathema to him and he'd never been able to lose gracefully.

Which was why he was pacing his office a few minutes before he would normally leave for the day, trying to compose a third Owl to Draco in as many hours.

The first had been returned, unopened, almost immediately. The second had returned with a stiff '_I'm busy' _response. A normal man might have been forgiven for giving up at this point. Three rejections in one day was enough for anyone, but Harry, apart from not wanting to give up, had no option; his job demanded that he persist.

Besides, Draco's rejections had been nothing in comparison to what he'd put up with in the past from clients, and the fact that Draco had answered the second one gave Harry hope that he was coming round.

And Harry was interested in Draco. The man was still pointy, but had softened considerably – perhaps grown into his angles. But he was very nice to look at, and those familiar grey eyes, magnified through the glasses or not, were no hardship to remember. They were striking.

There was a soft rap on the door, interrupting Harry's thoughts. Joe stepped through and into the room at Harry's call. 'Ah, thought I could hear you thinking from my desk outside,' he said, grinning.

'That's because your own head is empty and looking for things to do,' Harry shot back, amused at his own joke. He'd hated the fact that he'd had to use his own brand of mind-healing on Joe, but the man was too valuable as an employee; he knew too many secrets that would put too many people at risk were he to become vulnerable to extortion because of his gambling debts. Worry about his future had set off Joe's insecurity and a few gambling wins boosted his confidence, but then a slump started the downward spiral until Joe's wife had almost left him and taken the children.

It had been a very quick job for Harry; he really only had to use Legilimencyon him and then implant in Joe's mind that he had a secure job for life and that he was needed at home and at work, and Joe turned the rest around all by himself. It hadn't been easy for Joe, but he was now happy and secure and that was the main thing.

"Well, you're pacing like you're frustrated; how about telling me what about? And solving all your troubles will give me something to do.'

Harry gave him a doubting look. 'You know how to ask a bloke out that's being a bit recalcitrant?'

Joe's face fell. 'Er…well, maybe not,' he said. 'But,' he said, face brightening again, 'I do know that no one ever says no to you for long.'

Harry frowned at that. 'I'm not sure I like the sound of that,' he said. 'Are you saying I intimidate people into doing what I want?'

'No, of course not. I'm saying that you're an…well, for a bloke you're a bit of all right and they…oh hell…they usually see that after a bit and…well…give in.' Joe's face was as flushed as Harry had ever seen it. He reminded him of Ron a little, but thinking about Ron made him feel guilty so he resolutely pushed all thoughts of Ron aside and laughed at Joe's expression, instead.

'You're a bit of all right, too, Joe.'

'Well, if you tell anyone I said that, your coffee might be laced with something unfortunate for the next several months.'

'That could be classed as treason, you know? Threatening the Assistant to the Minister of Magic would land you in Azkaban.' Harry was laughing now, though, and Joe saw it and grinned back.

'Nothing illegal about laxative potions,' Joe said, taking the visitors seat. 'So, who is this recalcitrant bloke and why is he saying no to you?'

'Draco Malfoy. Heard of him?'

Joe's eyes widened. 'The potions guy?'

Harry nodded. 'We attended Hogwarts together and always hated each other, but he saved my life and I saved his and I thought maybe we'd grown past all that, but it appears that I was wrong.'

'Hmm, you're not going after small fish are you? He'll be a hard one to impress. Always looks like he just stepped from one of them fashion magazines.'

Harry laughed. 'Not when he's working he doesn't.'

Joe raised his eyebrow then looked away, thinking. 'So he's not averse to getting his hands dirty, then?' It was a statement more than a question, but Harry shrugged his answer; he really didn't know Draco well at all. All the information the file had on Draco was factual things: where he went and who he saw; it said nothing about what he did at home behind closed doors.

'Why do you want to go out with him?' Joe asked.

'You've seen what he looks like, why wouldn't I?'

'He does nothing for me, sorry.' Joe looked horrified at the thought.

'I know. That still doesn't solve my problem of how to get him to say yes.'

'You have to give him something he wants,' Joe said. He rolled his eyes at Harry's smirk. 'I wasn't meaning sex, but if someone I wasn't all that interested in was chasing after me, I'd think twice if they were offering me some–' Joe suddenly stood and grabbed a piece of parchment from Harry's desk. 'I have an idea.' He picked up a quill and began scribbling on it, deliberately moving away from Harry when he drew near to read over his shoulder. When he was done he folded the parchment, attached it to the owl's leg and sent it on its way.

'What did you do? Or should I be too afraid to ask?'

'I promised you'd take him to Puddlemere's next game and that you'd get him in to meet the captain.'

'Is that all? I hardly think that's going to impress him. He was at Hogwarts with Oliver as well.'

'I remember reading an article on him where he revealed he was a Puddlemere fan. Just because you can get tickets whenever you want, doesn't mean the rest of us can. Tickets to their games are sold out two seasons ahead these days. Don't you read the papers?'

'Er…not really,' Harry replied, running a hand through his hair.

'So, maybe this will work,' Joe replied.

'Hm, good thinking, Joe. Think dinner with Oliver would impress him?' Harry would ignore the fact that Draco insulted Hermione earlier; he was sure it was done deliberately to stir up anger in Harry.

'You might be in luck, there,' Joe said. 'Now if I can get back on with my work…?'

'Of course, and thank you,' Harry said.

'My pleasure. Just stop thinking so loud.' Joe gave him another grin and left Harry to his thinking, only this time Harry sat at his desk, leaned back in his chair and rested his feet on the desk, crossed at the ankles.

XXX

'Merlin but the man is persistent,' Draco said mostly to himself, but his house-elf Pippy heard and gave a happy little yip. Draco sighed, wondering why he hadn't sent the elf packing back to the Manor to live out his days looking after his mother. He grudgingly admired the little elf, though, and when he had insisted on accompanying Draco when he moved into new premises, Draco hadn't the heart to tell him he couldn't go with him.

Though Pippy forgot his place far too often to be called a good house-elf, he did for Draco very well.

'He is offering Puddlemere tickets, though, Pippy, and to meet Wood. Should I accept?'

'Pippy is thinking Master should have said yes to Harry Potter the first time he is asking you out.' If the elf could have scowled, Draco was sure he would be scowling.

'I can't have him thinking I am too easy, now, can I? Besides, look what treasure I have acquired just because I played hard to get.' Draco smirked at the house-elf.

'You is going to say yes then?' Pippy squeaked.

'Of course I is…am,' Draco replied.

He had always planned on saying yes to Potter eventually; he had access to something Draco wanted very badly indeed, so he'd have been stupid to pass up the opportunity altogether. After sending Pippy off to start making dinner, Draco penned an acceptance and sent it back with the Owl.

Several minutes later, Pippy returned to the living room. 'Master, Mister Harry Potter is at the front door,' Pippy said.

Surprised Potter even knew where he lived, Draco told the elf to bring him in.

'Potter, what are you doing here?' Draco asked when Potter, looking better than he had a right to in a black Muggle suit, entered.

'If you're interested, I thought we could have dinner with Oliver Wood tonight,' Potter said, smiling. When Potter wasn't trying to be an arrogant arse, his smile was quite nice, too.

'Tonight? Oh, but…' Suddenly flustered, Draco lost his train of thought.

'Pippy has Master's good clothes all laid out,' Pippy said and, when Draco stared at him, it looked like he was doing a bit of a jig. It distracted Draco enough that he regained his control.

'What have I told you about only speaking when spoken to?' Draco narrowed his eyes and glared at Pippy, who almost quailed under the attack. Damn, slowly he was losing authority over the creature.

'Pippy knows he is to speak only when Master requires. Pippy is a bad elf but Pippy is not liking Master to use excuses for not going out.' The elf began to pull on its ears.

'Merlin save me from well-meaning friends and house-elves that think above their station,' he mumbled. When he turned back to look at Potter, the man was biting his lip trying not to laugh.

'I'll wait while you change, Draco,' Potter said. 'Unless you need help dressing. I could…' Potter broke off when he saw Draco's glare. 'Right, no help needed. I'll wait right here.'

'Where are we going for this dinner?'

'His home. It will be just the four of us, so you can monopolise him all night.'

'I have to have dinner with Granger?'

Potter's eyes narrowed. 'You still have a problem with her? I'd have thought you past that by now.'

'I don't have a problem with her blood, Potter, if that's what you mean. I just remember her as a bossy know-it-all and I bet she hasn't changed.'

Potter relaxed visibly, and Draco harrumphed silently. 'She hasn't changed all that much, no, and I bet she could still give you a wallop across the face like she did in third year.'

Draco blushed and quickly escaped the room to go and change. Good Lord, he was going to have dinner with a room full of Gryffindors!

XXX

Romilda Vane did not sleep well that night. She tossed and turned and could never seem to get comfortable enough to slide into that deep, restful sleep. Her dozing dreams were filled with strange images and feelings, words and people, and she had no idea why.

Back when she had left the brothel and Draco had taken a chance on her, he'd given her two weeks to clean herself up and get off the drugs. Her withdrawal symptoms had been bad; she'd been on one drug after another continuously for years and just…stopping… had been the most difficult thing she'd ever done.

Not going back to the brothel had been an easy choice to make once she'd had a job and, when her mind was her own again, free of the effects of any sort of drug, she felt a sickening revulsion at what she had let herself become. Not only that but the things she had done, the shameless way in which she had whored herself out to anyone with money and a dick – or money and a cunt, women were just as likely to use her as the men had been – made her feel ill.

She determined that no one would ever have that sort of control over her body again. She was her own person and if she fell flat on her arse, then she picked herself back up again and kept going, but she was not going to rely on anyone ever again to make her decisions for her, or tell her what to do. The money she made from her job kept her comfortably, and she wanted for no material possessions other than those she had already accumulated.

Perhaps the biggest gift her life gave her now was her friendship with Draco. In many ways he was as damaged as she was, although he'd had the money to cushion the fall and managed to pull himself up by his talent and dedication alone and make himself into what he was today.

He was driven by something that worried her. She didn't know what it was that he was searching for but she knew there was something. Maybe that was why she couldn't sleep. Maybe this seed she'd planted about Harry having something Draco needed was going to lead to something neither of them could handle. But at the same time, she knew he'd have given in anyway sooner or later and agreed to go out with Harry. It was all beyond her control either way. She liked thinking of them together, though. They would be volatile on the surface, and perhaps underneath, as well, but they were both passionate people, neither of them backward in coming forward when something bothered them. And when they cared about someone, they were both fiercely loyal.

She smiled in her half-sleep; thoughts of Harry always made her smile. She thought her dream Harry would be proud of her now. Stuck in her withdrawal symptoms, she'd had nightmares and visions and dreams of Harry. In some he was in the dingy, grimy room she shared with four other girls in the brothel. He would be sitting on the floor, beside the thin blanket she slept on, and would be holding her hand while he spoke softly to her, telling her what he saw her future to be.

In others he would be holding her down by her arms on the lumpy mattress in a different room they used to fuck clients in. She'd be able to feel his body pressing hers down and she'd try to wriggle under him, because the men liked that, but he'd whisper to her to stop moving and just relax. He'd stare into her eyes and as she stared back, caught, mesmerised, she would feel the most magical calm descend over her body and soul, as if she'd suddenly found a missing part of herself.

At those times she remembered reliving parts of her childhood, golden summers awash with sunshine, and long days with balmy evenings where they stayed out roaming the countryside until it was dark and mother would activate their Portkeys to bring them home for supper. Days when Romilda had been in love with the world. Even now she made sure she spent some time in the country whenever she had time off work in the summer.

But in yet other dreams they'd argue. Harry would have brought her some food to eat; he would smuggle it in past the brothel owner and she'd attack it, famished. But he'd be trying to get her to leave the brothel and she hadn't wanted to. She could never understand why it meant so much to him. In her dreams she asked him once and he'd said that she was special and she deserved more than where she'd ended up.

But they had been dreams, surely? She'd barely even seen Harry since school, except in the newspapers and things. The crush on him she'd had in school seemed to have disappeared, because she hadn't even blinked when he came out and pictures of him with a male partner were splashed all over the front page.

She just felt…on edge.

She slipped into a fretful sleep, filled with dreams of the kind she'd had during her withdrawal, and they seemed more real to her than they ever had before.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: Not Mine.

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**Author's Note**: Enjoy. Sorry it's been so long since the last chapter... I feel awful about it, but it was all beyond my control I'm afraid. Thanks for sticking round, hope you enjoy this latest chapter.

jamie

xxxxx

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Hermione and Oliver's house was just about exactly as Harry had always expected. Though they had pots of money that Oliver earned through Quidditch and Hermione through her position in the Department of Mysteries, their house was very modest. Neither of them had the time nor the desire to decorate. Hermione would rather have her head stuck in a book about interpretations of pre-Christian runes than what this season's colours were, and as long as Oliver had his trophy room he was happy, so their house remained rather sparsely decorated.

'You do move fast, Harry.' Hermione grinned at him as she hooked her arm through his and pulled him inside, Oliver having already dragged Draco into the trophy room.

Harry laughed. 'Not as fast as Oliver. It seems I've lost my date and we've only just stepped inside.'

'Oh, he just likes to show off, and apparently Draco is an enthusiastic fan.' She shrugged and pulled Harry on to the couch beside her as she sat down. 'So, Draco looks good,' she said, giving Harry a sly grin.

'He does,' Harry agreed, not seeing any reason to deny it.

'And you must like him; you've dressed rather fancy for a quiet dinner at home with friends.'

Harry blushed. 'Well I thought I'd better try and impress him and not be the scruffy mess I usually am.'

Hermione watched him carefully, and then after a moment, she smiled. 'Imagine if Ron were here now,' she said. 'Can you imagine the look on his face at the news that you're dating Draco Malfoy?'

'Don't.' Harry winced, insides squirming with guilt thinking about Ron.

'Have you two still not patched things up, then?'

'I've apologised I don't know how many times but nothing I say seems to make any difference.'

'He's a fool, then,' Hermione said. 'He's going to lose both of us if he can't accept that things will never be the way he wants them to be.' She slapped both hands down on her thighs. 'Surely he sees that?'

'He only sees this perfect picture he had of the four of us all growing old together and having the perfect families, all gone, ripped out from under him. He thinks we abandoned him.' Harry could understand it, and even feel Ron's grief at the loss, but he wouldn't stay with Ginny just because it was Ron's wish. Hermione certainly hadn't stayed with Ron because it was what Ron wanted, though Harry knew Ron still had hope that Hermione would come to her senses, leave Oliver and return to him where she belonged.

'He needs to grow up, then,' Hermione said. She sighed and relaxed back into the couch and rested her head on Harry's shoulder. 'I do miss him, though. I miss both of you; it's been so long since I saw you.'

'I'm sorry,' Harry replied. And he was. It wasn't fair that she lose both her best friends. He would try and make more of an effort to visit her, though if things went well with Draco, just when he would find the time to see Hermione more often was going to be difficult.

This job was unusual in more than one aspect; in fact the whole thing was not like any other assignment he'd ever had. For one thing, never before had he mixed his friends with his assignments. And for very good reason; when the time came to perform his 'little miracle', the less people that knew about the preceding friendship the better, as there were less explanations to be thought up. But Harry and Draco already had history so altering that aspect of Draco's memory was virtually out of the question.

As Draco and Oliver walked back into the room, Draco smiling and arguing with Oliver over some obscure piece of Quidditch trivia, Harry hoped fervently that he would not be required to do anything to Draco and he could continue to develop this attraction into…something. It was there; he felt it, an indefinable something that drew him to Draco. A healthy dose of desire and attraction, certainly, but there was something deeper there as well. He knew only time and proximity to Draco would help him determine what that was because, while they had known each other for more than half their lives, they'd both changed enormously. Harry decided he rather liked what he'd seen of the man Draco Malfoy had become.

'Have you bored Draco to death with your Quidditch stories yet?' Hermione asked, smiling at them both.

'No, but perhaps he should,' Draco said, finally turning his attention to where Harry sat with Hermione's head still on his shoulder. 'Give you two some more time alone.'

'We're just catching up,' Hermione replied briskly as she stood up. 'It's been too long since we've seen him. Oliver, if you can organise drinks, I have some things to do in the kitchen.'

'I can do that. What will it be, Harry? The usual?' Harry nodded. 'Draco?'

'Just water, thanks.'

Oliver raised an eyebrow but said nothing and went off in search of their drinks. Draco sat down on the couch next to Harry, and Harry unconsciously moved his thigh closer to Draco's. When he noticed himself doing it, he gave a quiet rueful laugh.

'Enjoying yourself?' he asked Draco.

'I am. Wood is quite Quidditch mad, isn't he?'

Harry laughed. 'Has been ever since I've known him.'

'I wondered if all the hype in the media was just hype, but he really is knowledgeable about the game.'

'Well, I'm glad you decided to come tonight, then.' Harry rubbed his thumb over the back of Draco's hand where it rested on his thigh. A slight hitching in Draco's breath beside him was all the reaction that he received, but it was enough.

'Why don't you drink?'

'I think it's a by-product of being around all those half-prepared potions and things, but alcohol tends to make me do things I regret in the morning.' Draco's voice was low.

'We all do that.' Harry laughed, remembering the times he'd woken with some anonymous person in his bed after a night drinking.

'After one drink?' Draco smiled at Harry and leaned closer, breath washing over Harry's lips. 'I think I'd like to stay in my right mind for as long as I can when I'm with you.'

Harry searched Draco's face for the lie, because flirting was not something Harry expected from Draco. Not so soon, anyway. But there appeared to be no lie, only a touch of insecurity, as if this was something Draco was not used to doing and uncertain of the outcome.

Harry smiled. 'Are you implying that you expect to lose your mind being with me?' Possibly bad choice of words, Harry thought.

'I hope so, Harry Potter,' Draco whispered, grey eyes filling Harry's vision. As he held Draco's gaze he wondered how easy it would be to sink behind those eyes and into Draco's mind.

Then, as they both appeared to lean closer at the same time, Draco's eyes became the last thing on Harry's mind. The soft press of Draco's lips against his drew a quiet sigh…

… before Harry reminded himself that he was on assignment. Kissing Draco was one thing, an extremely pleasurable thing, but he had to remember that in all probability, after all of this was over they would go their separate ways and Draco might never even remember he'd kissed Harry.

Reluctantly he pulled back, only to want to steal another kiss when he saw Draco's eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheeks for a moment before he opened his eyes and smiled.

A tactful cough from the doorway reminded Harry that they were not alone. He tore his eyes away from Draco to see Oliver busying himself placing their drinks on the table.

'Sorry about that,' he said after clearing his throat.

'Oh, don't worry about me,' Oliver replied, looking at them. 'I'm used to seeing blokes all over each other. Happens all the time in the Quidditch League.' Oliver settled back in his chair with his drink. 'At first I thought it was because the showers in our changing rooms had no doors. You know, so much flesh on display you can't help but be curious.'

'_You _were curious about men?' Draco almost choked on his drink.

'Me? Oh no.' Oliver laughed, shaking his head. 'No, I mean, I looked; I think probably everyone does, but men's bodies never did it for me. Once I walked in and saw the Keeper balls deep in some guy's arse. I didn't hang around to see who it was, I can tell you.' Oliver took a swallow of his drink. 'Then two weeks later it seemed like every second bloke was on treatment for some sexually transmitted disease. And it was then I realised how widespread it was and how…normal.'

'The league kept that under wraps,' Harry said. 'I never heard a word about it.'

'Not something the League wants to brag about. Not a good image for the kiddies.'

'I knew, only because some of the League players came to me to ask if I had any magic potions that would cure them,' Draco said.

Hermione walked back into the room and picked up her drink from the tray before curling up on the couch next to Oliver. "I hope everyone is hungry,' she said. 'I've made roast beef with all the trimmings and spotted dick for dessert.'

Draco started coughing, choking on his drink, and Harry bit his lip trying not to laugh. He lasted about three seconds before giving in.

It was in Harry's nature to be suspicious of Draco; he'd had first-hand experience of believing Draco was up to something before, after all, so during the meal he let the others direct the conversation while he pretended to concentrate on his meal. In reality, he was merely pushing the food around his plate while he tried to work out just what had been behind Draco's quite obvious flirting. One generally did not become seductive and kiss a former – enemy? nemesis? – like that on a first date without there being an ulterior motive. Although, hard as Harry wracked his brain trying to think of what Draco could possibly want from him, nothing came to mind. He had nothing Draco could possibly want.

Unless, of course, the Wizengamot was right and Draco intended on using Harry to get to the Minister.

The thought made Harry's stomach turn over and he growled softly in protest at the direction his thoughts took him.

'You all right there, Harry? I know Hermione's Yorkshire pud is a bit on the burnt side, but–'

Harry looked up and laughed at Oliver shrinking away from a Hermione backhand. 'You can always learn to cook yourself, Mr 'I can't even boil water without burning it',' Hermione said crossly.

'Damn, woman, if you'd let me finish, I was about to add that the rest of it is better than any restaurant and that my wife,' he leaned in to rub noses with a rapidly calming Hermione, 'is the cleverest, most beautiful witch I know.'

The way they looked at each other like there was no one else in the room, like there was no one else anywhere in the world, made Harry sigh. Hermione deserved her happiness, they all did, but their obvious love sparked the lonely man inside him who bitched that he'd given up his own chance for this type of happiness for the good of the wizarding world. The lonely man inside was resentful of that.

Harry pushed the lonely voice inside him down, alongside the doubter who often didn't believe that what he was doing was for the betterment of society as a whole, and the one who wondered if the sacrifice he was making was worth it.

Unfortunately, from beside him, Draco made a small noise that caught Harry's attention and he looked up. The movement must have caught Draco's eye, because he turned to face Harry, meeting Harry's eyes with his clear grey ones, and Harry felt like he was drowning all over again. Something in them made him want to climb inside just to see if he ever wanted to find his way out again.

'What are you thinking?' he asked quietly, instead of succumbing to the temptation to slip in behind Draco's eyes.

'Wondering why someone like you is still single.'

Draco's voice settled into Harry's skin with a shiver, like getting into a warm bath in the middle of winter. Warm enough to make you gasp with the shock and then let the pleasure sink into your bones.

'Probably for the same reason you are,' Harry answered, watching the effect his own words had on Draco. There was a slight widening of the pupils and then Draco's lashes fluttered closed for a second. Harry almost cried out at the loss of the intense gaze, but Draco opened them again and caught Harry up once more; this time he was surprised at the pain that lay deep inside.

Without even thinking about it, Harry's hand rose to Draco's face, cupping it, his thumb rubbing over Draco's cheekbone. And if he hadn't half expected it, he'd have been surprised when Draco exhaled deeply and leant into Harry's hand, closing his eyes, hiding them from Harry again.

Draco had been about to say that he was sure that Harry had not had to deal with people wanting to go out with him for his notoriety or his name, but realised that he'd be making an idiot of himself if he said that.

Since he'd jumped in and kissed Harry earlier, his thought processes seemed to have taken a leap right out the window. Either that or his dick had staged a coup and taken them over completely. What had started out as mild flirtation, so Draco could find a way to get what he wanted, was suddenly becoming something he was physically unable to control. Sounding like an idiot might be the least of his troubles.

At least he wouldn't have to fake a physical reaction; Harry's touch seemed to do delicious things to his nerve endings. Getting what he wanted from Harry would be rather enjoyable. And easy too, if Draco read Harry's reactions correctly. It seemed that Draco was not the only one affected by the other's touch. Harry was looking quite smitten.

'Haven't found the right one yet?' he asked, opening his eyes to meet Harry's fathomless green ones. Harry's palm remained warm against his cheek as Draco nuzzled gently into it. Draco wanted to groan at how tender that connection between them felt; how cherished such a simple touch made him feel.

Oh, Merlin…

'Thanks for dinner, Hermione, Oliver,' Harry said as he shook Oliver's hand at the door.

'You're welcome, Harry. Make sure that you don't leave it months before we see you again, though. I'm rather tired of Hermione fretting about you. If I didn't know you preferred men, I'd be jealous.' Oliver's kind eyes crinkled to show he was joking.

Hermione rolled her eyes and walked into Harry's arms, hugging him tightly. 'Make sure we see you again, soon.'

'I promise,' Harry replied, meaning it.

'And you, too, Draco,' Hermione said, moving to hug Draco and not displaying the slightest awkwardness about it. Draco, for his part, looked a little shell-shocked, but recovered well enough and hugged her in return.

'Thanks for having me,' he said.

'I'll owl those season's tickets to you in the morning,' Oliver said.

'Thanks again.'

Harry grinned as Hermione stepped closer to Oliver. 'Now maybe I might get jealous; he doesn't give season tickets away to just anyone you know.'

'Well, I'm very flattered.' Two pink spots formed on Draco's cheeks and Harry saw him worry his lip with his teeth. He smiled; here was a Draco Malfoy that was apparently unused to taking compliments and who blushed adorably. Oh, he was _not _going to get used to thinking of Draco as _adorable _too much or he'd forget that he had a job to do.

'And I see it's about time I dragged my date away from the two of you before I lose him forever,' Harry said, taking Draco's hand.

'Don't worry, Harry, neither of them have what I need,' Draco teased, recovering and pressing himself against Harry's side.

'And what's that?' Harry asked.

Draco gave Harry a tiny smirk. 'A date with bad eyesight.'

Harry laughed and dragged Draco out the door.

A cool night breeze fanned them as they walked to the nearest Apparition point. Harry still held tightly to Draco's hand and, for Harry, it was a hot point on his body, protected from the cool breeze, palm warm as it sat flush against Draco's. He didn't quite understand how they had progressed from almost arguing that morning, to walking down a road holding hands after an extremely enjoyable dinner where they had even _kissed_!

He did know that he wasn't going to question it too deeply, though; it would make his goal easier to obtain and hopefully he'd be able to salvage it…after.

'So, Harry, you're holding my hand,' Draco said.

'Yes, it appears so. Do you have a problem with that?'

Draco's hand squeezed his gently. 'No. Oddly enough I don't have a problem with that at all. In fact…I'm not sure why I don't have a problem with it or that kiss we shared earlier.'

'I'm just that irresistible?' Harry joked.

That earned him a short laugh. 'I wouldn't go that far…but…there's _something_, isn't there?'

'Hm… yes,' Harry admitted.

'So, what are we going to do about it?' Draco stopped and tugged on Harry's hand to make him stop, too. He'd told Harry the truth; he didn't understand why he didn't have a problem with how quickly they'd become so close. And while it was also true that he had ulterior motives for getting close to Harry, he rather thought that even had his intentions been pure as the driven snow, that he'd still welcome the developing intimacy with open arms. Perhaps Vane was right and he'd been alone too long.

Love had been an immeasurably costly sacrifice to vengeance.

Harry stepped forward and lifted Draco's chin with his fingers, the strength in them bleeding through even the most tender stroking of the skin on Draco's throat. Draco's breath hitched as Harry leaned in and placed the softest of kisses on his lips. 'I rather thought we'd take this as far as you're comfortable with,' Harry whispered.

There was nothing left to do, really, but lean forward again and give himself over to more kisses that took his breath away.

If he was careful in extracting what he wanted from Harry without him realising, then maybe he could keep and develop this…attraction that seemed to surround them to the exclusion of all else.

And maybe if he was really careful he might not fall in love with Harry while he was at it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: Not Mine

**Author's Notes: **Hm, well the plot thickens... I did say it was going to be angsty. Remember that. But a Happy ending. Promise.

Enjoy

jamie

xxxx

* * *

As Harry was eating his breakfast the next morning, a large eagle owl tapped on his window, a scroll trapped firmly in its beak. Harry opened the window and let it in onto the windowsill, carefully removing the scroll before directing the beautiful animal to the perch in the corner.

'Go on, there are treats in a bowl up there,' he encouraged. The owl glared at him balefully before glancing over at the plain perch in the corner. Harry had never replaced Hedwig; he'd never found another animal that he felt that same connection with, so the perch was for visitors only and, as such, was plain and deliberately uninviting.

Harry shrugged and opened the scroll. When he saw by the signature that it was from Draco, he smiled.

'You'll be waiting for an answer, so you may as well have some treats for your trouble.' Harry tried with the owl again before ignoring it to read the scroll, instead.

_Harry,_

_Allow me to show my appreciation for the enjoyable evening by giving you a tour of my laboratory this morning. Then, perhaps we can lunch somewhere? If, as I suspect, you would prefer to keep our luncheon out of the gossip columns, then I shall let you select the venue. Say 11am?_

_Please don't let Poseidon eat any of those treats with preservatives in them. He's a very sensitive creature and they upset his stomach for days._

_I'll await your response._

_Draco. _

Harry gave a quick glance up at the owl, which was still perched on the sill, and smiled. 'Sensitive but also very clever. I should have expected no less.' He moved to run his finger along the bird's head. Poseidon, for his part, merely accepted the attention with a minute flick of his head. 'Next time I'll have some decent treats for you. How about that, eh?'

His thoughts returned quickly to Draco and the – if he were honest – thrilling evening they'd enjoyed the night before. Draco had been a surprise, and the connection they'd felt was so shocking that it was almost unbelievable. There was still a niggling doubt in Harry's mind that Draco had an ulterior motive; his seeming attraction for Harry had been sudden…but Harry had felt the same connection, the same spark that threatened to ignite something wild. He wasn't sure that could be faked.

Harry ran a hand through his hair as he moved to his desk to pen a reply. Faked or not, he had a job to do and only time would tell – helped along by some Legilimency – whether or not Draco was dangerous. In the meantime he had a client to cultivate.

_Draco,_

_Poseidon is a very clever bird and remains preservative-free. I shall be prepared in future; I anticipate that I will be seeing a lot of him._

_A tour of your lab sounds interesting. Are you sure that you trust me down with your precious potions? I wasn't always the most graceful around a cauldron, if you remember. And I won't be held responsible for my actions if you wear those very flattering glasses again._

_Lunch also sounds delightful. If you have no objections, how about coming back to mine for lunch? Kreacher will salivate at the chance to feed someone other than me and I am sure he'd welcome cooking for a palate that appreciates fine dining for a change. I'm generally happy with a sandwich, so…_

_Besides, it will give us a chance to talk and get to know each other better. Last night, while brilliant, felt a bit…fast. Oh, there's nothing I'd like more than to continue where we left off, spent several hours after I arrived home thinking on it, actually, but I want more._

_Harry_

_Harry,_

_A simple yes would have sufficed._

_Yes and yes._

_I shall see you at 11, then._

_Draco_

_Ps. Don't flatter Hyacinth, I truly couldn't stand another day of her waxing poetic about how utterly divine you are._

Harry laughed as he folded the parchment and slipped it into Draco's folder with the earlier note. He wrote a reply and attached it to Poseidon's leg.

_Draco,_

_No need to be jealous; I'll save all my flattery for you._

_Harry. _

'There you go, boy. I suspect that Draco will let you rest after this one,' Harry said to the owl, giving him another head stroke.

When Harry arrived at the Ministry, he called Joe into his office.

'What do I have on today?' he asked as Joe sat in the chair opposite Harry's desk.

'Er, a suit?' Harry laughed along with Joe for a moment. 'You have a meeting with the Minister at 10, an interdepartmental meeting to discuss budget distributions at 11 and lunch with the Board of Hogwarts and the Quidditch league to discuss funding a new scholarship programme. After that you're pretty much free for the afternoon. Why?' Joe raised an eyebrow.

'Damn,' Harry muttered. 'I'll take the Minister at 10, but you'll have to take the other two.'

'But-'

'I have somewhere else I need to be at 11,' Harry interrupted. 'Besides, you know what's going on better than I do.' Not for the first time Harry rued the fact that as an Undersecretary he was pretty ineffectual. But there was nothing for it. Joe would just have to think that Harry was once again putting his personal life ahead of work.

'This wouldn't have anything to do with your date last night would it?' Joe asked shrewdly, and Harry grinned, a little abashed at how easily Joe could read him.

'It might have.'

'Must have gone well if you're seeing him again.'

It would do well for Joe to see that Harry appeared totally smitten with Draco, and while that wasn't that far from the truth, Harry reminded himself of his actual mission. All his doubts and reservations would have to be kept very close to his chest and he would need to appear to have fallen quite hard. How he was going to explain everything after the assignment was completed, Harry had no idea. Bad break-up, perhaps? He sighed. This was the problem with high-profile cases.

'It went much better than I had expected. He wants to give me a tour of his laboratory this morning and then have lunch.'

Joe nodded, smiling. 'Never had any doubt that he'd fall for your charms once you got him to agree to the date.' Joe stood to leave.

'Thanks for your help, by the way. Your idea worked a treat.'

'No problem. Just see if you can grab me some free samples of his anti-ageing cream as a thank you. For the wife, of course.'

'Of course,' Harry replied, thinking that he'd just buy Joe's wife some of the cream.

HDHDHD

'Are you quite finished?' Draco asked, directing his question to an extremely overjoyed Vane, who'd just spent the last five minutes chattering on excitedly about Harry Potter visiting the lab. Her reaction had been enough to prod his own nerves; Harry was due any moment and she still hadn't cleaned up her work bench as he'd directed.

'Oh…what?' She blushed and resumed her task. 'Not that he'd care if I had my work spread out everywhere. Not the tidiest of blokes from what I remember. With that hair and…'

'Enough,' Draco snapped, his own anxiety getting the better of him. The last thing he needed now was a reminder of Harry's hair. Last night he'd had the opportunity to spend extended amounts of time running his hands through it, and at times his fingers still felt like they had the curling softness wound round them.

Vane looked at him shrewdly. 'You really must like him if you're this nervous. And you never let anyone down here.' She grinned. 'Someone has a little crush, perhaps?'

'Just finish cleaning your desk,' he said, damning her perceptiveness. Sometimes he wondered about her; she knew him too well. He'd tried not to let his guard down too much, but he'd badly needed a friend and so had she.

'I will if you stop worrying yourself to death over Harry coming here,' she retorted. 'He obviously likes you; he went to a lot of trouble to get a date with you, so calm down or you'll fuck this one up too.'

Draco's head snapped up to look at her. 'I don't fu-'

Hyacinth's voice interrupted him, announcing Harry had arrived. Draco bit his lip and turned to where she stood in the doorway. 'Thanks. Show him through.'

Behind her, he could see Harry, and his eyes were drawn to the smile on his face. Draco answered it with one of his own. In a quiet voice to Vane, he said, 'Make sure everything is locked away and warded. No matter who he is, we can't take chances on losing those formulas.'

Vane grumbled as Draco moved to meet Harry as he entered the room. He was still smiling, much of his anxiety washed away by the warmth of Harry's smile. He'd wondered how to greet Harry; a handshake, a kiss…? But Harry solved all that by taking one of Draco's hands and drawing him close before leaning in to kiss him on the lips. Draco ignored the soft gasp from Hyacinth and the sudden fluttering of his heartbeat, though he did step back earlier than he would have had they been alone; however, he didn't relinquish Harry's hand.

'Harry,' he said, smiling.

'Draco.' Harry smiled back.

Funny, Draco could have stayed there for an eternity, losing himself in the smile and affection in Harry's eyes.

After several moments, though, he heard Vane coughing from behind him. It distracted Harry, whose eyes flicked toward her. As Draco watched, Harry's expression turned to one of shock, and his eyes narrowed for a second before the smile found its way back again.

'Well I can see that I am going to have to re-introduce myself, seeing as you've managed to hypnotise Draco.' Vane smiled and moved to shake Harry's hand. 'You might not remember me but we went to Hogwarts together. Romilda Vane,' she said.

Draco groaned and managed not to blush. Barely.

'Of course I remember,' Harry said, shaking her hand. 'You look a lot better than last time I saw you.'

Vane stopped and tilted her head slightly, looking at him in confusion. 'Have we seen each other recently?'

'I-I don't think so, I just meant you've changed since school. That's all.'

Draco noticed Harry stammer, saw the little shift in his eyes and realised that the man was lying about something. He wondered if Harry had been a previous customer of Vane's after all.

'Right.' Vane nodded. 'Well that was a long time ago, Harry.' She had a bright smile on her face. 'I'll leave you two boys to it. Call me if you get stuck explaining something to Harry, Draco,' she said cheekily and walked back to her workbench.

'Thinks she runs the place,' Draco muttered as he turned back to Harry. At a squeeze from Harry's hand, Draco remembered that they were still joined and he debated whether or not to let go. He didn't want to, but everything seemed to be moving so fast and Harry had such a way of keeping him so off-balance that if he didn't pay attention he might find himself bent over a table somewhere before he realised it.

Reluctantly, he let go Harry's hand and took him by the elbow instead, standing closer than he really should.

'You ready for this tour?'

Harry nodded and they headed towards the lab proper.

For the first few minutes of the tour, Harry was lost deep in thought. Seeing Romilda Vane in Draco's lab had been a shock. He hadn't followed her progress after he'd successfully encouraged her to leave the brothel. She hadn't even been an official 'unofficial' assignment; someone – he couldn't even remember who it had been now – had mentioned that they'd seen her there and he'd felt sorry for her.

He wondered if having her so close to his current assignment was going to be a problem. Frowning, he tried to remember exactly what had happened the many times he'd been there, ostensibly to purchase her services, but in reality to alter her thinking. There hadn't been anything out of the ordinary and he had enough confidence in his skill to be certain that she'd not remember him.

All the same…he would do well to remain wary around her. And after he'd finished with Draco, hopefully he wouldn't have to alter her memory again.

The soft squeeze of Draco's hand on his elbow roused him from his thoughts.

'We can always forgo the tour, Harry, if you have other things on your mind.'

'What? No…' Harry shook his head. 'I'm sorry.'

'You looked a million miles away. Something bothering you?'

'No,' Harry assured him. 'You have my complete attention.'

'Good.' Draco shot him a satisfied smile and Harry let himself be led through the vast building, thoroughly enchanted by Draco's knowledge and how proud he was of his accomplishments. He could worry about Romilda Vane later.

HDHDHD

Kreacher had outdone himself with lunch, Harry thought as he and Draco sat down to a sumptuous meal that would not have looked out of place in the fanciest of restaurants.

'Do you think Kreacher is trying to make a point?' Harry laughed.

'Very possibly. He can't be happy that you eat like a barbarian unless you have company,' Draco replied.

'You're right, I suppose. He does tend to go overboard when I entertain.'

'It's up to you to keep him in line, Harry. House-elves need direction and a firm hand.'

Harry laughed. 'This from the man who lets his house-elf decide who he dates.'

'You should be very grateful to Pippy for insisting, or else I would not be here, now would I?' Draco smirked, but Harry was more delighted by the faint flush across Draco's cheeks.

'I shall make my gratitude known, then.'

'As long as it's not with clothes.'

'No,' Harry said, picking up his spoon to begin eating the soup. 'I already freed one of your family's house-elves. I might not make it through a second episode should I somehow manage to do that again.'

'I highly doubt that you'd manage to trick me as easily as you tricked my father, and even if you did, Pippy would be devastated to be made to leave me.' A shadow crossed Draco's face at the mention of his father. It left his eyes lined with pain, and though he lowered his head quickly to eat his soup, Harry had seen it.

'I was sorry to hear about your father,' he lied. Lucius Malfoy wasn't worth wasting sympathy on, but he was sorry that Draco had lost his father.

Draco looked up, eyes hard. 'Don't lie to me, Harry.'

Harry sighed and nodded before concentrating on finishing the first course. After he took his last mouthful, he tried again. 'I do regret your pain at losing him, though.' It couldn't have been easy for Draco never knowing who had killed his father.

Draco put his spoon down carefully and raised his eyes to Harry, the sadness palpable in them. 'The hardest thing is not knowing who or why it happened.' He frowned. 'I suppose the why is clear enough, but he was already paying for what he'd done. Was that not enough?'

Draco's eyes looked like broken pieces of slate, sharp and brittle. Harry wanted to do something to bring the smile back into them. Anything.

'I don't know who it was, Draco, I'm sorry.'

'And even if you did you wouldn't be able to tell me, would you?' Draco said, voice as bitter and broken open as his eyes.

'I suppose that would depend on what you'd do with the information,' Harry replied carefully.

Draco blinked and looked away, seemingly trying to compose himself. He took a couple of deep breaths, and when he looked back at Harry his expression had cleared somewhat, but his voice still carried his pain. 'At least I'd know someone cared enough to find out. He wasn't a good man; he did terrible things, but he was my father and even if he deserved everything that happened to him, I deserve to know.'

Harry stood and moved to Draco's side of the table, taking his wrist and pulling him to his feet. 'Come here,' he said, and pulled Draco close and into his arms, because damn if he didn't hate seeing that sort of anguish.

Draco was stiff in his arms for all of a second, before he made an unintelligible noise and practically melted against Harry's body, nestling his head neatly on Harry's shoulder, face pressed into his neck.

'I'll see what I can find out,' Harry promised, turning his head to press a kiss to Draco's forehead. He'd already been warned against making any sort of enquiry shortly after it happened, but perhaps with the passage of time it would be easier to find information. He could at least try.

Arms slid around Harry's waist and held on tight; kisses soft as butterfly wings against his neck made him shiver. 'Draco…'

'Shh, Harry, let me…' The words were breathed into his ear before lips caressed the skin behind his ear then along his jaw. When Draco finally faced Harry, eyes dark, lips slightly open and their faces so close that he could feel Draco's quickened breaths washing over his own, a wave of need crashed through him, soaking through all reason.

'Maybe you should go now,' he said shakily, which was really stupid. It would be so easy to take advantage of Draco like this and make progress on his assignment. But he just …couldn't.

Could he?

'Or else stay,' he whispered as he moved to claim Draco's lips and let himself drown in the onslaught of emotions.


End file.
